


The War of Troy

by The_Yaoi_Goddess



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types, Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan, The Heroes of Olympus - Rick Riordan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Ancient Greece & Rome, Alternate Universe - Homer's Iliad, Angst, Comfort, F/M, Fluff, M/M, Tragedy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-01
Updated: 2015-07-01
Packaged: 2018-03-10 00:24:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 11,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3269855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Yaoi_Goddess/pseuds/The_Yaoi_Goddess
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jason Grace, prince of Sparta, assembled the largest army in all of Greece to wage war, after his wife Reyna ran away with Leo of Troy.</p><p>Percy Jackson, destined hero, has his whole life turned upside down when a boy appears in front of his palace and he is called to war.</p><p>Nico di Angelo, son of Death, is keeping a dark secret and harbouring secret feelings for his saviour. </p><p>The war of Troy will bring them together, rekindle old relationships, and test new ones. In the battlefield, in the midst of the bloodshed and violence, they will realize that in a war between the heart and the mind, there are no survivors. An AU based on the Iliad.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Been thinking of doing this for two years now. Based on Homer's Iliad, inspired by Madeline Miller's Song of Achilles, and dedicated to my bestfriend, Trixie!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Without anyone or anything, and trapped in the dungeons below the castle, Nico di Angelo became a prisoner in his own kingdom.

The kingdom of Opus stood west of the Ithacan forest and east of a mineral-rich mountain. It was ruled by King Dino di Angelo and his queen Maria. The kingdom had been peaceful, even prosperous, until the royal healer discovered the queen was pregnant, in the middle of the king’s two-year journey. The king had been suspicious upon his return, but refused to confront the queen in fear of upsetting her health.

After half a year, Maria gave birth to their first child, a girl who looked like her, tawny eyes and hair black as ebony, and nothing like the king. They named her Bianca, for _white_ and _fair,_ and the rift between the king and the queen deepened. _The child is not his,_ the servants said, gossiping with each other as they scrubbed the hard, cold granite floors of the palace after dark.

Despite the whispers and stares that followed her, Bianca grew up strong and swift, like a huntress. Everyone thought that was the end of that, but on Bianca’s thirteenth birthday, the kingdom was plunged in darkness. The people in the kingdom didn’t see the sun shine for an entire week, and the elders declared it a bad omen, a sign of devastation to come. The rumours surrounding Bianca’s conception resurfaced.

Around that time, the neighbouring kingdom of Knossos developed an imperial ambition to expand its territories, and soon Opus was under siege. In an attempt to gain the approval of the king, Bianca, despite her young age, volunteered to lead the counter-attack. The enemy forces retreated after merely two nights. Instead of being awed, the people were appalled. There was talk that at night, Bianca’s forces transformed from soldiers to skeletons. _Death follows her,_ they whispered as they made the sign against evil.

To make matters worse, the queen once again became pregnant. _I have not lain with her,_ the king told the royal healer, who nodded and talked of spirits and ghosts and divinity, and how they must not be insulted. Thus, the king let the queen keep her baby.

The baby turned out to be a boy and the queen named him Nico.  Nico grew up shy and quiet. He was very different from Bianca, but he loved her and looked up to her. In turn, she protected him from the malicious gossip of the servants and the cruelty of the nobles. They had no one to turn to, for their father had grown indifferent to them and their mother had been dethroned, living in the village like a peasant.

The night before Nico’s thirteenth birthday, the king flew into a rage, convinced by the royal star-gazers that another catastrophe was to happen. _Offer his mother’s spirit to the Underworld,_ the star-gazers said. The king believed them. He had Maria dragged from her house in the village and hanged in the gallows.

Bianca and Nico were devastated and they shed no tears when the king died in his sleep that same night. _The work of the lord of ghosts,_ the royal healer told them after she failed to identify the cause of his death. The kingdom quickly fell to ruin. It was constantly plagued by earthquakes and the nearby mountain refused to yield any more precious stones.

The king’s brother stepped in as regent and looked for help, committing a grave mistake he never had the chance to correct. _I am a legacy of Apollo,_ said the high priest brought in by the regent, his crazy, electric blue eyes set on Bianca. In a week, he stopped the earthquakes and made the mountain fruitful again, sacrificing animal after animal. In a month, the royal family was forgotten and he was made king.

In no time, he found out about the mystery of the children’s parentage. There was no need for divination; he knew the truth and he used this to his advantage. He kept Nico hostage in his quarters, forcing Bianca to do his bidding. And do his bidding she did.

With her undead forces, she destroyed army upon army, bringing power and wealth to Octavian’s name. The kingdom of Opus had an ally in the kingdom of Sparta and Bianca often led the sieges with Sparta’s eldest princess, a daughter of Zeus with eyes like the sky and hair like midnight. They called her Thalia Grace.

Thalia Grace had a little brother older than Nico by a few years. Jason, they called him, had eyes like Thalia’s and golden hair. Nico hated the wars, but he was happy whenever the Spartans came to offer their aid, because Jason would visit him in Opus and take care of him, bandaging his wounds, soothing him with words, giving him hope. For a couple of days every year, Nico knew what it felt like to be loved.

One day, Thalia disappeared, and the alliance with Sparta was no more. Jason no longer came to visit, and Nico forgot what the sun looked like.

This did not stop Octavian, and with every kingdom Bianca conquered, his greed grew and grew, until in his confidence, he ordered a siege on the kingdom protected by Poseidon, Phthia.

Bianca did not survive the counter-attack led by Phthia’s prince, Percy Jackson. Upon hearing the news, Nico fell violently ill. Octavian didn’t mind; he was too busy planning the kingdom’s defense and searching for someone to replace Bianca. Then Nico started _fading,_ like a shadow _._

That captured Octavian’s attention. He realized the siblings might have similar abilities, only the younger’s had not awakened yet. Immediately he sent out a messenger to look for his _trainer,_ the legacy of Orcus, Bryce Lawrence. It didn’t matter to Octavian what Bryce did, as long as the man produced the desired results.

Without anyone or anything, and trapped in the dungeons below the castle, Nico di Angelo became a prisoner in his own kingdom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fangirl-ing/ fanboy-ing and criticisms are very welcome!


	2. Patroclus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The word 'rescue' has lost its meaning to Nico years ago.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is dedicated to my other bestfriend, Vincent! Oh and by the way, [flashbacks]. And I got my Latin from Google Translate, so it might not be the most accurate, haha!

 “I can’t!” Nico cries, tears dripping down his eyes to his swollen cheek. He thinks he was hungry before Bryce arrived, but now he only feels the throbbing in his side and the numbness in his legs. He struggles to his feet, placing a bloodied hand on the wall of cement to steady himself. He feels weak, more than he usually does. He wonders about the last time he ate and frowns when he can’t remember.

 _“Try harder,”_ Bryce growls, cracking the whip in his hand as he moved in front of Nico. _“You do want me to stop, don’t you?”_

Nico grits his teeth, holding back a groan. He loses his footing and falls on his hands and knees. The floor is carved of stone. It is damp with sweat and blood and tears and the gods know what else. _Kill me,_ Nico thinks. He is too cowardly to voice it, but it is the only thing that goes through his head. Bryce places a hand at the back of Nico’s head and jerks him forward, pulling on his dirtied hair.

 _“You know I_ love _doing this,”_ Bryce drawls. _“But we really don’t have the time. The Phthians will attack us any day now, so I’m pretty sure His Highness Octavian would_ appreciate _it if you could just get a move on.”_

“Please,” Nico begs, not knowing what he’s begging for. His mind is hazy and his vision is blurring. Bryce is laughing, the sound bouncing off the walls. Nico knows he’s falling unconscious, so he closes his eyes and breathes a prayer of thanks to Hypnos for granting him at least a couple of minutes of rest. He wishes Hypnos would never let him wake up.

Hypnos doesn’t grant his wish. When Nico regains consciousness, he is sprawled across the center of a stone plate in the palace’s garden, surrounded by tall unadorned pillars. It is where Octavian performs his rituals, bathing the stones in the blood of animals.

 _“I see you are awake,”_ Octavian walks up to the plate, his white robes billowing behind him. _“Just in time for the ritual to summon your sister.”_

“Wh-what?” Nico’s hands and feet are not bound, a first in years, but he is too weak to stand on his own. He leans his body against the nearest pillar and scans the garden. The place is empty, save for Bryce, who is standing to the far back.  It is unusual, as Octavian normally has an audience to watch him perform his ‘miracles.’ “I… I don’t understand.”

Bryce hands Octavian a silver bowl. The priest dips his hand into the bowl and sprinkles some sort of powder-dust over the stones. They catch the moonlight, glinting red as blood. Nico watches, transfixed, as Octavian kneels and stabs his short sword into the ground.

 _“Infernus subter aperit!”_ Octavian exclaims, pulling his dagger away. There is a sound like a moan, a rumbling great and deep as if it were coming from under the ground. Then the Earth splits open, as if being ripped open by invisible hands. _“I have done it! Now I’m going to exchange this useless brat for his sister!”_

“An e-exchange?”

 _“Yes, di Angelo, an exchange. Your soul for hers!”_  

“You can’t do this!” Nico watches as skeletons claw their way above surface, rattling bones and the stench of the Underworld. He hears some strange sort of noise in his ears, a cacophony of whispers, the dead trying to communicate with him. _Shut up,_ he thinks, _don’t talk to me._

The skeletons are shambling towards Nico now, a mass of uncoordinated bodies, pale like the moonlight they are all bathed in. Nico looks at Octavian and sees the crazy glint in the priest’s eyes. He knows what Octavian is planning. Octavian will resurrect Bianca with Nico’s life and turn her into his pawn once more, a killing machine without a will of her own. Nico will not let him. Bianca finally has what she deserves: _the chance to be reborn._

“I won’t let you,” Nico grits his teeth.

 _“You won’t let me?_ You?” Octavian clutches his stomach and guffaws. It is an unpleasant sound. _“You’re not like your sister. You don’t have_ anything.”

There is that weird murmuring in his head again. Nico concentrates on the sound. The skeletons seem to halt in their movements, and all at once Nico feels their _pain. What do you want?_ He feels their anguish, their hurt, their hatred. Bianca could control the dead, but he isn’t like her. _I don’t have anything._ He can’t control them, but they are reaching out to him, communicating with their emotions.

“I’ll stop you,” Nico himself is surprised by his conviction, but he knows he _will_ do this. He will protect Bianca from this monster even if it costs him his life. He turns to the undead bodies, channelling all of their grief, their hatred, their emotions into himself. _Help me,_ he pleads _._ He catches a brief glimpse into their lives, the moment of their demise. They are soldiers, fallen at the hands of Octavian’s, their deaths brutal and meaningless. _Don’t we want the same thing?_

 _“Stop me?_ Stop me?” Octavian is doubling over, manic glee distorting the features of his face. _“You and what army?”_

Nico places a hand on his chest, over his heart. He’s taking into himself the pain of a whole army and he feels as if he is about to break. _It hurts._ He can’t control the undead like Bianca, but he can bend them to his will, feel what they are feeling, think what they are thinking. He doesn’t know yet how dangerous it is for one of the living to empathise with the dead.

“Me and your army,” Nico pushes away from the pillar and stands on his own two feet. In front of him, the undead turn around, making their way to Octavian.

 _"What’s happening?”_ Octavian watches as the skeletons come closer and closer. He backs away, step after step, until he stumbles over a rock and falls on his behind. The skeletons advance on him. _“Get over here, Bryce!”_

Bryce does and immediately he is swallowed by the mass of bones, torn into shreds of flesh and devoured. What is left of him, the skeletons push into the crack in the ground. Nico feels the urge to smile and laugh, and it frightens him. _This isn’t like me._

 _“Desine!”_ Octavian pulls out his dagger. _“I command you, stop!”_

Nico thinks it’s foolish for a legacy of the god of light to try and control the forces of the dark. Nico takes a step forward, and his foot passes _through_ the stones. He gasps, frightened. _Calm down,_ he commands himself _, this is nothing._

BOOM!

The flash of an explosion and the sky lights up like it is day. Nico is startled by the deafening sound. He crumples to the floor, covering his ears, his eyes shut tight. For a minute, he can’t hear or see anything. Then, his chest tightens. When he looks up, the skeletal army is disintegrating, a mass of clattering bones and white dust.  The ground is sewing itself back together, groaning and moaning.

Nico hears the pounding of feet, the sound of a coming army. He thinks it might be Octavian’s soldiers, but Octavian’s face is still ashen. Nico hears shouting now, the deep bellow of a commander gathering his forces. He remembers the words of Bryce: _The Phthians will attack us any day now…_ Nico gets to his feet; this is his chance to escape!

 _“’Ey, where you goin’?”_ An unfamiliar voice calls out and Nico turns around.

He sees a man… with _goat_ legs.

Octavian looks back and forth between the satyr and Nico, and makes a mad dash back to the palace. Nico curses.

 _“’Ey get back here!”_ The satyr shouts after Octavian. He grumbles to himself and points to the towering trees surrounding the stone garden. _“Secure the place, will ya?”_

To Nico’s further astonishment, the trees uproot themselves, thick roots bursting from the confines of the soil and _move._

 _“You’re Nico di Angelo, right?”_ The satyr asks.

“W-what’s it to you?” Nico feels himself growing weak again, the strength lent by the dead leaving his body.

_“I’m Grover Underwood. I was sent here by the throne of Phthia to rescue you.”_

“Rescue?” Nico racks his head for something, anything, to help him escape. The word _rescue_ has lost its meaning to him years ago. “There’s nothing you could possibly want from me.”

 _“You’re wrong.”_ Grover is walking towards him now.

Suddenly Nico understands why Octavian flat out dashed earlier. Something about the satyr radiates pure panic. Nico stands his ground, calming himself. He is a child of darkness and fear. He isn’t going to give in.

 _“The king of Phthia ordered this rescue,”_ Grover pauses, gauging the other. _“He has agreed his son the prince will care for you.”_

 “The prince?” Nico’s voice is quiet.

For some reason, he suddenly remembers the salty smell of the ocean. He remembers drowning in the waves. He remembers a hand breaking the surface of the water, reaching for his own. He struggles to remember who owns that hand, and he does.

[ _“Are you alright?”_ There is a boy, staring down at Nico like he’s the most important thing in the world, and although Nico is lying on sand, his hair sopping wet, his lungs filled with water, he thinks he’ll be okay. _“My name is – “]_

_“Percy Jackson.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments are love.


	3. Achilles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Phthia is a small country between Mount Othrys and the sea.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Valentines! And Happy International Fanworks Day as well!

Percy stares past the cold stone of his open window to the cerulean colors of the ocean outside. He feels like taking a swim. He is getting impatient and he knows the water will calm him down. However, his father’s visitor is arriving today and Percy doesn’t want to miss it. He shifts on the linens of his bed, yawning

As if summoned by his thoughts, there is a knock at his door.

_“Your Highness, the visitor has arrived.”_ The voice of a servant.

Percy sits up and the door opens. A boy about a year, or two, or three younger than him walks in, shuffling his feet. The servant closes the door behind him and for a few minutes, there is only silence. Percy swings his legs over the edge of the bed. There is a light _thump_ as his feet make contact with the floor. The boy startles, gasping as he takes a surprised step back.

Percy stops and takes the boy in. His skin is pale olive, his eyes like the obsidian they trade their salt for. His hair is shot through with streaks of midnight. _He’s beautiful,_ Percy thinks, his mouth going dry _._ But the boy’s eyes are bloodshot, his face white as alabaster. There is a bruise at the corner of his mouth and Percy thinks he’s too thin for it to be healthy.

“Are you ill?” Percy asks, his brows drawing together.

_"I’m fine.”_ The boy’s dark eyes flash in distrust.

“Are you certain?” Percy crosses the distance to the boy, who is looking at him with wary eyes. He cups the boy’s cheek with a hand and frowns. “You’re cold.”

The boy flinches away from his touch, shivering slightly, and does not say anything.

“What’s your name?”

_“Nico,”_ The boy looks up at him. _“Nico di Angelo.”_

Percy stops. The name rings an old and dusty bell. He remembers the smell of saltwater in the ocean. He remembers the sound of waves crashing against the shore. He remembers reaching for the hand of a drowning boy.

_Who?_

A knock sounds throughout the room and the servant from before enters.

_Excuse me, Your Highness,”_ He kneels. _“The room for our guest has been prepared.”_

When the servant leaves, he takes the boy with him and Percy is left with his thoughts. He shakes his head, clearing his mind. _I don’t have time for this,_ he sighs _._ He retrieves the scrolls of parchment scattered around his room and busies himself with the affairs of state, trading routes, partnership proposals, news of wars. His father is too busy minding his oceans and so is his older half-brother, the Cyclops Tyson, leaving Percy to govern the kingdom.

Phthia is a small country between Mount Othrys and the sea. However, it has the busiest port in all of Greece, thanks to its calm seas. The Phthians, fisher folk and traders, have long erected temples and statues to the founder of their country, the sea god Poseidon. Every year, they hold festivities to celebrate their beloved sea god.

By nightfall, there is a pounding in Percy’s head and his vision is blurry. He drags his feet to the dining hall and learns that the boy – _Nico, was it?_ – had asked to eat his dinner alone in his room. Percy is too tired to think much of it. The Festival of Poseidon is in three months and he still hasn’t gotten everything sorted out.

The next morning, he does it again. He reads the scrolls one by one until he has a headache and when the dinner bell rings, he sits down to eat. A day turns into a week and then two. He hasn’t seen even the shadow of his visitor once.

“Has he left?” He asks one of the servants one day after dinner.

_“Not yet, Your Highness,”_ The servant looks surprised. _“His lordship Grover said the boy was not to leave.”_

Percy sighs and asks the servant to lead him to the boy’s room. He knocks on the mahogany door, once, twice, thrice. Getting no answer, he simply pushes the door open. The room is dark and bare, as if no one has been living in it. There are cards and statues strewn about on the floor and by the corner Percy sees the unmistakeable glint of a sword forged with Stygian iron. The only sign of life in the room is the tree of pomegranates miraculously growing in a pot by the single window. That, and the lump covered in linen on the bed.

_“What do you want?”_ The voice is muffled not by sleep, but by the blankets.

“You haven’t shown your face around here for two weeks,” Percy leans against the doorframe. “Makes me wonder why you’re even here.”

_“Go away.”_

“I don’t think so,” Percy keeps his tone light, but as he approaches the bed, Nico suddenly sits up.

_“I said, go away!”_

Percy is taken aback. The boy looks worse than he did before.

“Have you been eating?”

Percy hears the concern in his own voice and he takes small, unsure steps towards the bed. Nico sits up, watching Percy with quick eyes, panic written all over his face. Percy wonders where this Nico came from, what his father could possibly want with the boy.

_“What do you want?”_ The boy repeats. He sounds tired, almost dead.

“Look, I just want to know if you’re alright,” Percy holds his hands up in a gesture of peace. “Now, have you been eating properly?”

_“I’m fine.”_

_You don’t look fine at all,_ Percy thinks, sighing at the boy’s stubbornness. He runs a hand through his hair, frowning when he sees Nico watching the movements fearfully. Percy walks up to the bed and sits at the edge, an arm’s length away from Nico. The boy clutches the blankets to his chest.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” Percy whispers when the boy stiffens. “Alright?”

_“What do you want?”_

“I just want to know if you’re eating properly!”

_“You’re lying!”_ Suddenly, Nico is on his feet, his eyes narrowed and his hands balled into fists. The room is a little colder than before, a little darker, as if gathering shadows.

Percy tenses, waiting for an attack. He opens his hand and wills the water in the air to materialize into his sword.

And Nico starts crying.

_That_ throws Percy off, and the water that had gathered pours down in little droplets like rain, drenching them both. Percy doesn’t know what to do. Nico continues crying, his shoulders shaking with the force of his sobs, and Percy watches helplessly. He has never felt more useless his entire life.

And then Nico wraps his arms around himself and against his better judgment, Percy walks up to the boy and gently draws him into a tight embrace.

“C’mere,” Percy murmurs against the dark head resting on his shoulder. “It’s okay, _it’s okay_.”

He places a reassuring hand on the boy’s nape, whispering all the bits of comfort he knows. Nico is sobbing and Percy feels the hot tears through his tunic. He rubs circles on the boy’s back, trying to at least soothe him.

_“I haven’t – been eating,”_ Nico confesses between hiccups, _“I just don’t… have an appetite.”_

“No appetite, huh,” Percy mumbles, pressing Nico closer to him, until there is no space left between them. “Well, is there anything you want to eat?”

_“… Not really.”_

Percy hums in response, nuzzling the boy’s locks.

_“Um,”_ Nico starts, and Percy reluctantly loosens his hold on the boy’s waist. _“I – I’m sorry…”_

“That’s alright,” Percy answers quickly, although he doesn’t know why the boy is apologizing. He wipes away the traces of tears on the boy’s cheeks with the pads of his thumbs. “Feeling better?”

_“Y-Yes. And… thank you… for rescuing me.”_

“Of cou – _rescue_?” Percy repeats, confused. _Rescue? From what? How?_

Percy opens his mouth to ask, but Nico looks up at him. His eyes are puffy and his sooty lashes are still glistening with tears. He looks up at Percy through his bangs.

Percy stops thinking then. He moves his hand to the back of the boy’s head, his fingers tangling in the dark locks.

He leans down, and captures Nico’s lips in his own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd love to hear what you thought of the chapter :D


	4. Kiss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boy stares up at him, and Percy feels like he’s the one drowning.

_“Wh-what in Olympus - !”_ Nico pulls back and wipes his lips with the back of his hand.

Percy comes back to his senses.

_“What were you doing!?”_

“I… I don’t know,” Percy helplessly scratches the back of his head. _What am I doing?_ He looks at the boy in front of him, cheeks going scarlet with rage and embarrassment, and wonders. “I was just…”

_“Let go of me!”_

Percy releases his grip on the boy’s hips and the boy backs away, positively seething and looking baffled as Tartarus. Percy blinks a few times and sighs. He can’t believe he had finally gotten the boy to open up to him for even a little bit, and he managed to immediately ruin it by acting on his impulses – his _weird, unexplainable_ impulses.

“Hey,” Percy holds his hands up, offering peace. He doesn’t know what to say, but he knows he needs to fix this _now_. “Hey, it was just a kiss, alright?”

The expression on Nico’s face shifts from confused to _hurt,_ and back to confused, and Percy knows he’s wrong as soon as the words leave his lips. _It wasn’t just a kiss._ Nico doesn’t say anything, only blinks his eyes at the prince. Percy can’t help but feel like he made a huge mistake. His eyes dart around the room, looking for something – _anything_ – to help with his situation.

“Those are Mythomagic figurines!” He points to the miniatures scattered about the floor, carved of bone and ivory and decorated with gemstones. “Are they yours?”

Mythomagic is a tradition practiced in their lands. They gift each other on special occasions with carved figurines of the gods, believed to possess a fraction of the power of the divine themselves – a figurine of Apollo, god of healing, for when someone is suffering from sickness; a figurine of Athena, goddess of wisdom, for the philosopher-kings; a figurine of Ares, for the men going to war. Over time, the children had begun playing with the figurines like they were toys.

_“Yes… I collect them,”_ Nico’s voice is soft, cautious and unsure, gauging Percy’s reaction.

“That’s cool,” Percy walks to the corner of the room, where most of the figurines are, and bends over. There is Dionysus, clothed in folds of silver; there is Hephaestus, with a hammer. There is Hades, with his scythe. _That’s weird,_ Percy muses _._ People usually don’t make figurines of the ‘scary’ gods: Hades, Erebus, Thanatos. “I have a few of Poseidon, do you want to have them?”

_“…Are you sure?”_ Nico’s eyes widen, his attention on the miniature Hades Percy has between his fingers. _“Aren’t the Elder gods harder to come by?”_

“Well, they are, but this is Poseidon’s kingdom, remember?” Percy stands up and beckons to the other boy. “Why don’t we talk about this at the dining hall?”

_“I’m not hungry.”_ Nico answers a little too quickly.

So he says, but Percy still thinks the boy is too thin. He shrugs, holding out his hand, and Nico stares at it blankly. The boy is stubborn, but Percy simply places his other hand by his hip. He can do this the whole day. He’s sure Nico wants him out of the room as soon as possible, though.

_“…Fine,”_ Nico gives in with a pout that makes Percy’s breath hitch in his throat, _“But you have to tell me more about the figurine.”_

“I know, I know.”

The hall, as Percy expects, is deserted by the time they arrive. It is hours past the dinner bell, after all. He leaves Nico at the table and goes off to the kitchen, returning with a basket of bread and a bowl of fruits. He plucks a fig from the bowl and, without any warning, tosses it to Nico. The boy rises from his seat, but fails to catch it, and the fruit falls with a _splat_ to the marble floor. The room rings with Percy’s peals of laughter.

_“It’s not that funny,”_ Nico mutters under his breath, the embarrassment on his face illuminated by a few lit torches on the wall.

Percy sets the basket and bowl down on the table. Wiping the tears from his eyes, he lets out the last of his chuckles, earning a glare from the other boy. He sits himself opposite Nico, the wide wooden table separating them a few feet.

“You’re adorable,” Percy picks up a loaf of bread, and hands it to Nico, “But you have to eat more. Here.”

Nico is a slow eater, munching on his bread with small bite after small bite in what feels like forever. Percy doesn’t mind. He knows it’s weird, but he thinks he likes watching Nico eat. After they finish the contents of the basket, the boy asks for another fig, and Percy affectionately ruffles his hair.

They eat in comfortable silence, Nico’s chewing and Percy’s fingers tapping on the table making the only sounds in the hall. By the time they are done, the moon is already high up in the sky. Percy returns the basket and bowl to the kitchen and walks the boy back to his room. Nico looks sated and content and thoughtful.

“Anything wrong?” Percy asks as he leans against the doorframe to the boy’s room.

_“The figurine…”_

“Oh,” Percy chuckles a bit at that, but he straightens up when an idea occurs to him. “The Festival of Poseidon is coming up in a few days. Why don’t I get you a new one then?”

_“You’d do that?”_ Nico’s voice is coated in layers of hope and the distrust Percy recognizes from the day they met.

“But in return, you have to help me fix some details with the Festival.”

_“I-I can do that… I think.”_

“That’s great!” The anxiety welling up inside Percy disappears, and he realizes that he was worried about not seeing Nico again. _Weird_. “Then I’ll see you tomorrow?”

_“Y-yeah.”_

“Alright,” Percy steps back and out of the room, wishing he didn’t have to. “Good night, Nico.”

Nico’s answer is a soft mumble that makes Percy laugh. The boy closes the door then, but Percy stays standing there, staring at the block of mahogany. _What am I doing?_ Shaking his head, he makes his way back to his room with just the light of the moon.

He doesn’t know why, but all of a sudden, his room feels too big, too empty. He climbs onto his bed, twisting and turning, but doesn’t find rest. Sighing, he resigns himself to more work as he picks up a scroll on the table beside the bed. It is the guest list for the Festival, filled with names of gods and demigods, kings and princes, priests and priestesses.

Slumber finds Percy as the moon is setting. Percy yawns and rubs his eyes, dropping the scroll back onto the floor. He rolls onto his side, and dreams.

[He is by the beach, the sound of waves rolling ashore the only thing he can hear. He turns to the ocean, and sees a boy struggling to keep afloat. He dives into the water without a second thought. He reaches for the boy’s hand, pulls him up, and carries him back to the sandy beach. He hovers over the boy, one hand on the left side of the boy’s head, the other on the boy’s right cheek. His knees are on either side of the boy’s hips.

“Are you alright?” He asks, staring down at the boy. “My name is Percy Jackson.”

_“I’m okay,”_ The boy’s skin is pale olive, his hair shot through with streaks of midnight. He’s coughing a little. He opens his eyes, and they are like the obsidian they trade their salt for.

_He’s beautiful._

_“I’m…”_ The boy stares up at him, and Percy feels like he’s the one drowning. “ _I’m Nico di Angelo.”]_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments, criticisms, and thoughts would be lovely!


	5. Trust

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Y-you remember?” Nico stutters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A longer chapter to move things along. Get ready for fluff and angst and enjoy!

Nico wakes the next morning to the sound of bells, signalling breakfast. Hesitantly, he makes his way to the dining hall, but finds it empty save for some servants wandering about. He walks all the way to the prince’s room, cursing himself with every step.  He knows he’s stupid to want to trust the prince, but didn’t Bianca always say that although there were people like Octavian – _bad people –_ there were also _good people? People like Percy,_ Nico thinks.

Percy looks at him like he is something to be looked at. Percy talks to him like what he has to say matters. Percy isn’t like the people from his old kingdom. And besides, didn’t Percy save him from drowning years and years ago?

Nico takes a deep breath. He knows he’s just trying to make excuses for his behaviour, but he’s desperate. He wants to believe.

_Percy’s different._

With shaking hands, he knocks on the door of polished wood. He waits, a minute, five, ten, before shoving the door open.

Nico looks at the room and all his worries melt away at the sight. Percy is on his back, the sheets covering him from feet to waist, his chest bare. He’s snoring softly, an arm draped across his stomach, the other stretched out on the bed. Nico closes the door behind him and walks over to the bed.

“Wake up,” He jostles the prince’s arm. “Hey.”

 _“What…?,”_ Percy rolls onto his side and stares at Nico with unfocused eyes. He scoots over to one side of the bed, patting the free space beside him. _“Come here. Here, Nico.”_

“Get up already.” Nico doesn’t move an inch.

Percy frowns and Nico thinks the prince is waking up. He’s wrong. Percy pats the space beside him a few more times, and falls right back asleep. Nico is left standing by the bed, shifting his weight on his feet awkwardly. Now that he’s taking a closer look, he can see bags under the prince’s eyes. Nico doesn’t know what to do. He busies himself with tidying the room, folding the prince’s clothes and stacking the scrolls in a corner.

Percy is still fast asleep when Nico runs out of things to do. He walks back to the side of the bed, and slowly sits down. He knows he’s going to hate himself for it later, but right now he doesn’t care. Rubbing his eyes, he lays down on the bed. He resists the urge to curl up into the prince’s warmth, but within minutes, he is sound asleep, too.

Nico wakes up to the sound of humming – a prayer to Poseidon, if he isn’t mistaken – and fingers combing through his hair. The first thing he sees is a bare chest, and an arm, and a hand with a scroll. He yawns and frowns when he realizes he isn’t in his room _and he’s sleeping with someone._ Nico stops breathing. Maybe if he’s quiet enough, he can sneak back to his room like nothing happened.

 _“Are you awake?”_ Percy ducks his head to look at Nico, and Nico wishes the shadows would simply swallow him. _“I didn’t mean to wake you.”_

“N-no, I was just…” Nico feels the warmth creeping up his cheeks, and he sits up to hide from Percy’s curious gaze. He had been resting his head on the prince’s forearm. _Oh gods._ “I was just getting up.”

 _“Were you trying to wake me earlier?”_ Percy gets up too, and pulls a tunic over his head. _“Sorry, I didn’t get enough sleep last night.”_

“I should be the one saying sorry, barging into your room like that.”

 _“I really don’t mind,”_ Percy chuckles and reaches across the bed to ruffle Nico’s hair. _“What do you say to an early dinner?”_

Percy doesn’t wait for him to respond. The prince pulls him close and wraps an arm around his shoulders. Nico shuffles his feet in an attempt to make space between them, his cheeks heating up when Percy holds his hand instead.

The dining hall is bustling with servants preparing for dinner. Percy calls over one of them and asks the table be set for an early meal. Minutes later, Nico is chewing on the best goat meat he’s ever tasted, completely unaware of the amused smile playing about Percy’s lips.

_“You like it, I presume?”_

“It’s not so bad,” Nico manages to say in between mouthfuls, making Percy snigger. “What?”

 _“Nothing. Go on, eat.”_ The prince gestures to the rest of the food on the table. _“We had those goats shipped all the way from Ithaca, you know, for the Festival.”_

Nico doesn’t care that he might be eating food meant to be sacrificed to the gods. He takes bite after bite and finishes just as the dinner bell rings. He flushes as the prince pats him on the cheek. Percy stands up then, and offers to take Nico for a stroll, insisting the guest hasn’t had a proper show of the place.

They spend the following days just like that, leisurely and at ease. Every day, at the first light of morning, Percy finds a way to coax Nico out of his room, and every day, Nico takes the bait. Nico would lean his slim hips against his doorframe and Percy would go on and on about whatever he had planned for the day.

“What about the preparations for the Festival?” Nico would ask.

 _“All taken care of,”_ Percy would smile.

“Liar.”

Once, they went skipping stones by a lake hidden away by trees and rocks. _Show-off,_ Nico had muttered when Percy started blasting small geysers so his stone _jumped_ and not skipped. Sometimes, they would pick figs from the orchard and Nico would laugh as Percy stuffed his face with the fruit. Nico had learned it was Percy’s favourite. Often they would sit in the gardens, wasting away hours and hours simply talking.

One night, they decide to stay up late to stargaze. They climb up a small hill by a creek and sit on the grass, shoulders almost touching.

“There’s the _Argo,_ the great ship of Jason and his Argonauts.” Nico traces a finger in the air, pointing out the constellations. “That’s the eagle, _Aquila,_ keeper of Zeus’ thunderbolts _._ ”

Percy doesn’t say anything.

“That’s _Pegasus,_ lord of pegasi.” Nico continues.

Nico stops for a second, thinking the prince had fallen asleep. He turns to look and finds the prince staring at him with wonder and disbelief, like he held all the answers to every question, like he was both prophet and prophecy.

“Um,” Nico clears his throat. It isn’t the first time he caught Percy watching him like that. He tries not to think too much about it. He tries not to hope. If things with Percy go wrong, Nico doesn’t think he can survive that kind of pain again. “And that’s your namesake, _Perseus,_ carrying the head of Medusa the Gorgon.”

 _“It’s getting late,”_ Percy says suddenly. _“We should go back.”_

The walk back to the palace is silent, and Nico wonders if he did anything wrong. He’d been careful to hide his parentage, making sure he didn’t do anything the prince would find… _unpleasant._

Nico doesn’t sleep that night. He tosses and turns in his bed, tormenting himself by replaying the events on the hill over and over in his head. Dawn breaks, but Nico doesn’t move. He is surprised when there is a knock on his door. He doesn’t think Percy would come get him today.

He drags himself out of bed, his movements sluggish. He opens the door, and leans his tired body against the doorframe.

 _“Good morning,”_ Percy smiles, but it is strained. _“Breakfast?”_

Nico follows him wordlessly to the dining hall. They eat in complete silence, save for the footsteps of the servants and the clanging of their utensils.

 _“Do you want to watch the sea today?”_ Percy doesn’t meet his eyes.

“Sure.”

Percy leads him through hallways and past an iron gate the color of lead. They walk along the beach, sand creeping between their toes. Despite his fatigue, Nico can’t help but smile when they stop to sit. The sun is rising, the twilight sky of deep mauve being parted by the rose pinks and apricot oranges of morning light. The sun is a daffodil on the horizon.

“It’s beautiful,” Nico says, breathless.

 _“Hey,”_ Percy’s voice is serious all of a sudden. _“What do you say we go for a swim?”_

“I can’t swim.”

_“I can teach you how. It’s not that difficult.”_

“I’m fairly certain that’s because you’re the son of the sea god.” Nico is anxious to return to how they were before. “And not because you’re a good swimmer.”

 _“At the very least, I can make sure you don’t drown.”_  Percy looks at him, his voice clear like ice-melted streams, his face like a bronze god in the sunlight. _“Like you did years ago.”_

And panic blooms in Nico’s chest.

Until now, he had been sure the memory he has of Percy diving in the ocean to save him was a figment of his imagination, a dream he created to make himself feel as if he belonged here in Phthia. He thought he had never really been rescued and the ocean just decided to spit him back out.

He still remembers that day he drowned – _no_ , the day he tried to drown himself.

[He’s attempting an escape from Octavian’s kingdom of Opus. He doesn’t know how long he’s been running without any water or food. It is a miracle he lasted that long, but it isn’t a miracle Nico celebrates.

After running through a forest, he finds himself by the ocean, the sparkling cerulean mocking his whole filthy being. He hears the heavy pounding of the metal boots worn by the guards, the clanging of their shields, and without a second thought he sprints the length of the beach. He’d rather die than go back to Octavian’s kingdom.

He doesn’t notice the boy swimming peacefully to the side, surrounded by porpoises and different-colored fish.

Nico doesn’t know how to swim, so he simply rushes the ocean, pushing against the current until the water is over his head, and he is floating. _Everything looks so different from down here,_ he thinks as he watches the play of light above the water’s surface.

Then a boy breaks through that seemingly impenetrable surface, hand reaching for his, and Nico wonders if he is already dead. The boy effortlessly hauls him out of the water, and rests him gently on the beach.

 _“Are you alright?”_ The boy has eyes of emeralds, the color of the depths of the sea. There is seaweed stuck to his hair, and for the first time in _forever_ Nico feels like laughing. _“My name is Percy Jackson.”_

“I’m okay,” Nico coughs a little. “I’m Nico di Angelo.”

The boy – _Percy_ – lets Nico sit up, and Nico does. Percy looks him over, opening his mouth to say something, but the guards of Opus burst through the forest.

 _“Step away from the boy,”_ Bryce shoves aside the rest of the guard, pushing his way to the front. _“He belongs to the Kingdom of Opus, a property of the King Octavian himself.”_

 _“Property?”_ Percy repeats angrily.

Bryce pulls Nico from Percy, and Nico winces at the bruising grip on his sore flesh. Percy stands up, a threat in his eyes, the waves behind him rising.

 _“It’s best you mind your own business, Prince of Phthia,”_ Bryce grunts. _“This child here was born of the lord of the Underworld.”_

There is heavy silence then, and Nico hangs his head. He can’t see the expression on Percy’s face, but Nico is sure the other regrets saving him. Nico lets himself be dragged back to the palace by Bryce and the guards. By the time they arrive, his feet and knees are bruised and cut, and he has forgotten the face of the boy who rescued him. However, he remembers the name, like it is a charm, in the hopes that he will get to hear it once more.]

“Y-you remember?” Nico stutters.

_“Of course. That was by the Aegean Sea, wasn’t it?”_

“Are you…” _Disgusted? Terrified? Angry?_ Nico remembers the malicious stares and cruel words he’s received over the years, simply from being born of Hades. He thinks he won’t be able to take it if those words come from Percy’s mouth.

_“Nico, I – “_

“I can…” There is a lump forming in Nico’s throat and it makes it hard to speak. “I can _leave_ , if you want.”

 _“Leave?”_ Percy frowns in confusion, but Nico can’t stop the tears forming at the corner of his eyes. _“Why would you do that?”_

 _I don’t want you to hate me,_ Nico wants to say, _you’re the only one I have._

He keeps his mouth tightly shut and doesn’t say anything.

Instead, he takes a step backwards. His legs feel week and his knees are shaking, but he turns his back. He starts running away then, away from Percy, away from the life he had come to know in Phthia. He doesn’t hear the prince shouting his name. He doesn’t see the prince chasing after him, because he closes his eyes and disappears straight into the shadows.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd love to hear what you think :D


	6. Memory

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so so sorry for the long wait! Don't worry; it'll be smooth sailing from here on out!

Percy watches in stunned silence as the shadows begins pooling around Nico’s feet, as if they are not standing in the light of the morning sun. The boy begins sinking slowly into the darkness, first the soles of his feet, then his ankles, and his knees. Percy moves before he can think. He lunges at Nico’s back, wrapping his arms around the boy’s waist.

“Let go,” Nico whispers, his voice weak as he struggled against Percy’s grip.

“What are you doing!?” Percy screams. 

The darkness is swallowing him now, too, and his chest tightens in panic. Despite that, he doesn’t let go. He tightens his hold on the boy’s waist and attempts to pull them both out, ignoring the way the shadows travel up his legs. The shadows aren’t dispersing, although the sun is shining high on the horizon.

“You’re not – “ Percy grunts, “ – going anywhere!”

“Let go,” Nico whispers again, but he isn’t putting up much of a fight now. 

Finally Percy manages to haul him back onto shore and Nico is violently heaving and coughing, like he had been drowning. Percy, too, feels exhausted, as if the darkness had drained him of all his energy. Still he moves his heavy limbs to where Nico is lying.

“When my father – Poseidon – said we were having a visitor, an important one I had to take care of personally, I thought it was just another one of those pompous minor gods, coming to whine about their lack of worshippers,” Percy takes a deep breath. “But then you appeared and I didn’t know what to make of you.”

Nico shifts, such that he was no longer on his hands and knees but sitting on his behind.

“Your father is Hades?” Percy asks cautiously, although he already knows the answer to that question.

Nico nods silently.

“I don’t think Hades is an evil god,” Percy continues, “But I think people are scared of him because he’s the god of death and they’re scared of dying.”

“I’ve never met him… you know, Hades,” Nico answers, his voice a shaky whisper and Percy can tell the other is trying not to cry.

He closes the small distance between him and Nico and gingerly settles the boy against his chest. Nico lets himself be lifted and seated on Percy’s lap without protest. With Nico’s forehead on his shoulder, Percy thinks the other’s smaller frame fits perfectly against his.

“I don’t want you to leave,” Percy murmurs softly. “I don’t really understand what happened with Octavian’s kingdom, but if you don’t feel like telling me now, I can wait until you’re ready.

And I don’t care that your father is Hades. It doesn’t change who you are,” Percy shrugs. Percy doesn’t know how else to say it’s okay, how else to communicate his acceptance, how else to make Nico understand, so he simply holds Nico tighter. “You’re still Nico, aren’t you?”

For the first time, Nico looks up at him. His eyes are wide with relief and gratitude and something else Percy can’t place. He nods slightly, as if he weren’t sure of it himself, but then a slow smile appears on his face and Percy feels his heart hammering away in his chest, his palms sweating despite the cool sea breeze. 

“I need to tell you something,” Nico suddenly says, his voice steady and determined.

Percy nods, careful not to bump his chin against the other’s forehead.

“I… y-you’re… um,” He blushes from his neck up to his ears. “W-w-with you… I’m… I’m…”

Percy waits, patiently. The waves are calmly rolling ashore – for once not betraying his feelings – and the sea breeze is sweet and salty. The sun is bathing in clouds colored like the inside of roses and the beach is completely empty, like it’s just the two of them in the world. 

“I li-li-like… no, l-l-love…” Nico closes his eyes. He sounds like he’s giving himself a heart attack.

Still Percy waits. He thinks he could wait for an eternity like this.

“I’m in love with you,” Nico finally whispers. “I love you.”

Percy is suddenly breathless, as if those three words knocked the air right out of his lungs. His eyes widen, taking everything in at once – Nico’s pale eyelids, the sea breeze blowing through his hair, the sunlight bathing his skin in gold. He tips the other’s chin up and rests his forehead against Nico’s. 

And then Nico opens his eyes.

Percy smiles and kisses him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nothing much in here, but we'll meet someone reaaally interesting next chapter!


	7. Game

After that, it seemed the days began to pass slower, as if the gods themselves were giving Percy and Nico the luxury of time. The servants quickly became accustomed to Nico spending the nights – and sometimes, the days – in the prince’s room. They didn’t seem to mind any of the little gestures of affection either.

Nico had taken on the role and duties of Percy’s absentee general-of-affairs, the Cyclops Tyson, irritated with how disorganized Percy was with ruling Phthia.  He often thought long and hard about what Percy told him, about Hades not being an ‘evil’ god, and about what he was able to do in Octavian’s stone garden. In the end, he decided to embrace his parentage, just as Percy did.

On nights during a full moon, he would sneak out into a hall by the west wing, the quietest part of the palace. There, in the midst of the shadows and by the light of candles, he would recreate Bianca’s rituals from what he could remember. With the help of various spirits, he eventually managed to learn some of Bianca’s magic tricks, from shadow-travelling to summoning the dead, only to discover that the most powerful of them sapped not his energy, but his _life force._ After that, Nico resolved to use his ‘gifts’ only when completely necessary.

Percy, on the other hand, managed to finish all the necessary arrangements for Poseidon’s celebration. The minutes took their time before they became hours, then days, which turned into weeks, until it was time for the Festival.

The Festival begins with a ceremony presided by Percy as prince and heir apparent. The Phthians slay a hundred cattle, a hecatomb, the grandest of the Greeks’ offerings and afforded only by the richest kingdoms. The priests then lead the people in prayer, hymns and chants. Nico recognizes one of them as the tune Percy is fond of humming, and he can’t help but sing along.

However magnificent the opening ceremonies were, everyone knows the main event are the games. Men from as far as Thessaly, even those without the slightest inclination to worship Poseidon, gather in Phthia to compete in the games. The dais, where Percy is seated, is in front of the racing track and surrounded by wooden spears and mixing bowls, prizes for the winners.

Nico leaps up the dais to hand Percy the _real_ prize, a wreath of freshly-clipped green leaves. However, Percy tugs on his wrist as he turns to leave. With excitement on his smile-lined face, the prince beckons to the empty seat beside him, supposedly for the other prince, Tyson. In the past, Nico would have hesitated. But he had changed.

With a slight blush, Nico sits down, and Percy grins at him. Nico casts his eyes forward, looking at the runners stretching on the track. They are all around Percy’s age, caught between the afterthought of their first flush of growth and the beginnings of adulthood.

Nico looks over all the competitors, and stops when he sees a light head among the dark crowns. Such fair hair – _fire-hair_ , they call it – is unusual in their part of the land. Nico shields his eyes, leaning closer to get a better look. The runner has sky blue eyes, warm and embracing, and is taller than the others. He has a gold circlet in his hair, indicative of nobility, and it reminds Nico of someone he used to know. Nico wonders if the runner is a prince like Percy.

THUMP!

The sound of the priest striking the ground with his staff, the signal to begin, and the runners take-off like arrows shot from a precise bow. The runner with the fire-hair moves easily, slipping past the others. He wins, and Nico cheers.

Percy steps off the dais to award the winner his garland, and the Festival proceeds to the next game of discus-throwing, and then the chariot-races, and then the archery competition, until nightfall is upon them. Nico stands up and stretches, his backside sore from the long hours of seating still.

_“You go ahead of me,”_ Percy squeezes Nico’s hand. _“I have to offer my greetings to the visitors.”_

Nico nods and walks off. He makes his way back to the palace. It is housing all the foreign visitors of the Festival, and bustling with life. Servants are hurrying to and fro, carrying in their arms towels and oils and the like, and the visitors fill the halls with animated chatter. He heads for the east wing, sighing when he finds that even that part of the castle is occupied.

Nico leaves the palace through the rear gate, blending in with the crowds to avoid being seen. Phthia is famous for its many bodies of water, and sure enough Nico soon stumbles upon a coastline hidden away by large rock formations. He looks this way and that, cautious, but there is no one around.

Crossing his legs, he sits down on the coast, a few feet away from the water. With a fingertip, he draws a pattern on the sand. Almost instantly, the skeletal spirit of a warrior floats up from below the sandy surface. He frowns in frustration when he realizes he doesn’t recognize the ghost. He’s still not good enough to summon specific souls; he’s still not good enough to see Bianca.

Nevertheless, the spirit he has summoned can still be useful. He draws his sword, a dark blade of Stygian iron. The spirit does the same, and Nico drops to his fighting stance. Aside from his ‘gifts,’ he has also been training with his sword.

Suddenly, Nico hears the faintest, slightest sound. He whirls around, his concentration fading, and the skeletal spirit disintegrates into dust and sand and nothing. He sees a figure by the rocks, but the person is hidden by the shadows cast by moonlight.

“Show yourself!” His voice is loud and panicked. _Have I been discovered!?_ He tightens his grip on his sword. “Who are you!”

_“I’m a prince of Sparta,”_ The stranger steps out of the shadows, and it is like Nico is seeing the sun shine for the second time. _“Jason Grace.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Percico is getting harder for me to write because I jumped ship to Jasico, but I hope you still enjoyed this! As always, thanks for reading!


	8. Agamemnon

_“J-Jason?”_ The boy repeats, voice shaking. _“Is that… really you?”_

Jason hesitates, but the boy doesn’t feel like a threat. He nods slowly and the boy throws himself at him.

“Wha – “ Jason lets out a yelp as he lands on his behind, the soft sand cushioning his fall. The boy falls with him, his fingers digging into Jason’s shoulders and his face buried in Jason’s neck. The boy’s hair is dark, but in the moonlight it is like silver. His skin is the color of pressed olives.

Jason remembers a boy from years and years ago.

_“Truly, you don’t remember me?”_ The boy pulls back, revealing eyes like obsidian and eyelashes fringed with tears. _“It’s me, Nico!”_

“N-Nico?” This time, it is Jason’s voice which shakes. He cups Nico’s face in his hands, gently, as if he is afraid the boy will break and disappear.

Suddenly, Jason feels like he is a young boy again. He is in Opus, in a cold, dark room with no windows. There is a sobbing boy seated in front of him. _It’ll be alright,_ Jason hears himself murmur, as he wipes the blood off the other boy’s cheek with the palm of his hand. _You’ll be staying with me this week, right?_ When the boy smiles, Jason feels like he’s been saved.

“I… I thought – “ Jason swallows the lump in his throat.

When Thalia died at the hands of a Cyclops, Sparta lost its heir. It was chaos. The other children of the king Zeus travelled from all over the land to claim Sparta as theirs. Jason had to fight off the contenders for the throne one by one, although he had been merely a lad.

By the time Jason was declared heir apparent of Sparta, years had passed. He visited Opus once, but was denied audience by Octavian. The priest only said the boy Jason was looking for was _“gone.”_ Thalia was _gone_ and Nico was _gone,_ too. Jason couldn’t understand.

_“What happened to you?”_ Nico is almost sitting on Jason’s lap now, his legs folded on either side of Jason’s and his hands clutching Jason’s tunic. _“What happened to Thalia? I heard she – “_

 “I – You… “

_“ – was attacked by a Cyclops?”_

Jason can feel his lips moving to form words, but his mind is blank. Nico is still talking, asking something about Sparta and the throne, but Jason can’t understand what the other is saying.

_“Is it true that she was turned into a tree? My sister, Bianca, she – “_

It feels too good to be true to Jason, to find someone he considers family after being alone for so long. Maybe it is a trick of the Fates. After all, he is here simply because his ship broke down and Phthia’s is the nearest harbour. Maybe this is another one of the tricks of Zeus’ other children, to make him lower his guard.

_“ – was devastated. She wanted to visit you, but – “_

Jason thinks that if this were a trap, he would be done for. He imagines the boy in front of him pulling out a dagger. Would Jason be able to defend himself? Would he be able to attack this boy? Jason can almost feel the pain of this Nico piercing his chest with a dagger.

_“ – Octavian wouldn’t let us and Bianca was – “_

Jason considers this Nico quite similar to his Nico. _Bianca this_ and _Bianca that,_ but this Nico seems… _happier?_ Jason looks at the creases on the other’s forehead, the way his mouth is turned downwards, and the tears at the corner of his eyes. _Not happier,_ Jason decides, _he looks like he’s about to cry. Livelier maybe?_

_“ – thinking of sending you a messenger – “_

This Nico is taller than his Nico, though… And heavier, too. Jason runs a hand through Nico’s hair, wondering if it would feel the same against his palm. _Silkier,_ he judges, rubbing the strands between his fingers.

Nico stops talking. He pulls away slowly, eyes wide and confused, when he untangles Jason’s hand from his hair. He stands up and pulls Jason to his feet.

_“Are you alright?”_ Nico’s voice is _steady_ and Jason wonders if this truly is the boy he used to comfort in those cold, dark rooms. _“You seem… out of it.”_

“I thought you were dead,” Jason answers and although Nico is standing in front of him, saying it out loud still hurts, still feels like a dagger embedded in his chest.

_“Oh.”_

“I went to get you. Octavian said you were gone.”

_“I… I was… rescued,”_ Nico turns his head to stare at the vast ocean unfolding beside them. _“I’ve been staying here ever since.”_

“Rescued?” Jason asks and there is that pain in his chest again. Isn’t it _his_ duty to rescue Nico? It is a selfish thought, Jason knows, but he can’t help it. He is the son of the king of gods, one of the strongest demigods of the land. His essence is to protect, to _save_.

_“Yeah, by the prince of this kingdom,”_ Nico is shyly looking down now. _“The son of Poseidon, Percy Jackson.”_

Jason struggles to place a face to go with the name. He tries to recall the face he saw earlier that day during the games, the face of the prince seated on the dais – a boy, around his age, with sea green eyes and dark hair. What would a person like Perseus want with his Nico?

“Do you want to go back with me to Sparta?” Jason asks, because it feels like the _right_ thing to do, because isn’t this how it was supposed to play out? He would rescue Nico and they would live together in Sparta and that would be that.

_“What?”_

“I defeated Zeus’ other children – Rhadamanthys, Sarpedon, Locrus, Carius, all of them – to claim Sparta. I can arrange for you to stay with me.”

_“S-Sorry? I – uh,”_ Nico averts his eyes. _“I’m… under the care of Per – the prince.”_

“If your guardianship has been transferred to the prince, I can discuss this with him. That’s no problem.”

_“N-No, that’s definitely going to be a problem.”_

“Pardon?”

_“Jason, thank you, really,”_ Nico’s voice is soft. In the soft glow of the moon, Jason thinks he can see just the barest hint of pink in the boy’s cheeks. _“But I kind of… like staying here. It’s a… nice place, really.”_

“Is the prince Perseus treating you well?” Jason asks, because Nico is _his_ business.

_“Y-Yes…?”_

“I see.”

There is silence between them then, and Jason hates it. He thinks there is so much to ask, so much to know, so much to _say_ , and yet he cannot find the words.

_I looked for you._

_I was worried._

_I missed you._

_I thought you were gone._

_I lost you._

“You don’t want to stay with me?” Jason asks once more.

_“I’ll visit you in Sparta,”_ Nico smiles and it is the same smile. Jason takes it as a consolation.

He sits down on the sand once more, a few feet away from the ocean, and he pulls Nico down with him. Nico doesn’t resist, only presses his back against Jason’s chest and settles himself between the taller boy’s legs. Jason wraps an arm around Nico’s middle, dropping his chin on the other’s shoulder.

“The sky here is really clear,” Jason points at the night sky with his free hand. “There’s the _Argo_ – “

_“ – The great ship of the Argonauts.”_

“That one is the eagle, _Aquila_ – “

_“Keeper of Zeus’ thunderbolts.”_

“And over here is _Pegasus_ – “

“Lord of the pegasi.”

Jason pauses then and with a laugh, he playfully nuzzles Nico’s nape. Nico giggles, squirming his body away from Jason. The older boy remembers the first time they stargazed: Little Nico had come to Sparta for the first time. He had been fascinated by the ‘lights’ in the sky, saying he never saw those in his windowless basement in Opus. Little Jason sat them down in his room, opened the windows, and they had been stargazing ever since.

“Someone’s been studying their constellations!” Jason teases, his fingers dancing over Nico’s sensitive sides.

_“That’s because – stop it,”_ Nico wheezes, _“You only know – hey, don’t – three constellations!”_

Jason keeps going anyway. He tickles the younger boy, who lurches out of his embrace and falls flat on his back on the sand. Jason climbs over the boy, his face stretched into a grin, and begins tickling him again.

_“Stop – someone – will hear us!”_ Nico says between bursts of laughter.  

Jason relents moments later, letting go of the boy and sitting up. He crosses his legs and holds out his arms. Nico lets out the last of his chuckles, before he dutifully climbs back onto Jason’s lap. He presses his face to the older boy’s neck, hands fiddling with the front of Jason’s tunic, and Jason tangles a hand in Nico’s hair. _Yep,_ he thinks, _definitely silkier._

They stay like that a couple of minutes, content with each other’s presence, and Jason even hears Nico humming softly under his breath. He recognizes the tune from the start of the Festival – a hymn to Poseidon? Jason tries singing along. He opens his mouth, but hears someone else.

_“Nico?”_

The boy turns his head slowly, a lazy smile spreading on his face. He pulls away from Jason, but only a little. Jason watches as the intruder walks out from the shadows. _Oh._ It’s the prince.

_“Nico, is… that you?”_ The prince – _Perseus Jackson, was it?_ – is frowning, his brows furrowed, fists unconsciously clenching and unclenching at his sides.

_“Percy, hey,”_ Nico murmurs, and Jason recognizes it as the boy’s sleepy voice. _“This is – “_

_“That is?”_ Percy walks up to them, his stance slightly hostile.

Jason’s natural protectiveness kicks in and he tightens his embrace on Nico. The boy sighs appreciatively, placing his head back on Jason’s chest. Jason watches as the prince grows more agitated.

_“This is,”_ Nico continues, almost drawling. He is falling asleep now, _“This is Jason.”_

_“How do you know each other?”_ Percy kneels by them, forcing a smile at Jason as he reaches for Nico.

“We’ve known each other ever since,” Jason answers, because Nico had already fallen asleep. He shifts the boy into his arms, not wanting the other prince to touch his Nico. “Would you happen to know where his room is?”

_“Yeah, I’d rather I carry him.”_

“No, that’s quite alright.” Jason’s nerves are fraying, his irritation growing at this Percy fellow. “Where is his room?”

_“Yeah, it really will be easier if I take him,”_ The son of Poseidon runs a hand through his hair cockily, chin jutting out. _“Because he sleeps with me.”_

“Okay, take me to the room,” Jason shrugs. He wonders why the two have to stay together. Is it the prince’s way of discreetly keeping watch over Nico? Jason wants to laugh; Nico would never hurt anyone!

The prince leads them back to the palace, the frown never leaving his face, deepening when Jason tucks Nico into the single bed inside the shared room.

“Nice meeting you,” Jason smiles as he turns to leave.

The prince crosses his arms over his chest, nodding mutely.

The rest of the Festival passed by uneventfully. Sometimes, Jason would see Nico in the oddest of places – an empty room, a hidden hallway, an unused staircase – and they would strike up lengthy conversations. Strangely enough, they never talked about the past, as if it were a place they were both too scared to visit. But Nico would smile and Jason would be content, because it was the same smile.

Once, Nico showed him his collection of Mythomagic figures. Jason had laughed, calling Nico all the words synonymous to ‘adorable,’ and Nico had blushed. In the end, Jason had one of his servants return to their broken ship to retrieve his miniature of Zeus. It was made of pure gold, depicting Zeus with his master bolt in one hand. Nico almost cried at the sight of it and Jason almost kissed him.

Another time Jason spotted Nico talking with a one-eyed giant, a Cyclops, and he almost drew his sword. Later, he learned that Cyclops was the prince’s half-brother. Jason had been repulsed and amazed at the same time. This Nico was so different and yet the same as his Nico.

More often than not, Nico was with his prince. Jason remembered this one time during dinner at the great dining hall. Nico was seated with Phthia’s prince in the long table at the center. In the middle of their meal, Malcolm of Scyros invited Percy to a walk to discuss a partnership between the two kingdoms. Nico had stood, uneaten fig still in hand, and followed Percy out the hall, as if he were bound to the prince’s side with invisible thread. Jason felt like the dagger in his chest was killing him slowly, slowly.

Soon, the Festival ended and Jason set sail for his kingdom of Sparta. When he left, his chest felt empty, like he left a part of himself behind.

It is a part Jason vows to get back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I momentarily forgot about this... I am so so sorry (but at least we have Jason now!)


End file.
